Americanism Redux

January 22, Your Today, 250 Years Ago, In 1776

Sheesh, this is hard, everything is hard. It’s cold, and nothing works smoothly in the cold. It’s dark longer and even when the sun’s out, the light is dim, thin, and weirdly unwarming. It’s colorless, nothing but browns and tans.

Dawn to dusk and moonlight to blacked-out stars, it’s an uphill slog and a downcast mood.

Today, January 22, 250 years ago, not much comes easy, and you’re wondering how to get unstuck.

* * * * * * *

(where father heard the news)

Illness is everywhere in eastern Massachusetts. In the village of Concord, 50-year old Mary Parkman Forbes, is struggling to breath. Her devoted husband, Eli, is at her bedside. Mary reveres her father and was sure she wanted to marry a man as much like him as possible; both her dad and her husband are Christian ministers. As the minutes of the 16^th ticked by, Mary dies. She’s gone and Eli is devastated.

Once he makes arrangements to lay Mary’s body out for friends and family to see in the Forbes home, Eli travels those thirty miles—those awful thirty miles—to tell her father that his baby girl is dead.

250 years ago, into the cold, gray sky, 73-year old Reverend Ebenezer Parkman cries out, “O Lord help!” when he listens to Eli.

* * * * * * *

(modern Brookline)

In Brookline, Massachusetts, the family of William Thompson calls out for help, too, except there’s a glowing tinge of anger in their expression. William Thompson was a supporter of colonial rights as recently as 1774 but he’s been increasingly unsettled about the imperial-colonial crisis in recent months. That feeling is all it takes for the house, property, and possessions of he and his family to be seized by “ruffians” organized by local militia and other anti-British residents.

Members of the Provincial Congress of Massachusetts admit that the Thompsons have been mistreated. They’ve aided the Thompsons in returning to their home. William Thompson is not assuaged; he’s bitter about public pronouncements of defending rights and liberties that he sees as empty, deceitful, and hypocritical. Who’s to say that someone won’t suddenly change their mind and decide the Thompsons still aren’t pro-American enough? They’ll be cast out in the cold, he thinks.

The Thompsons want guarantees and they’re going all the way to General George Washington to get them. It’s the only way to survive the winter.

* * * * * * *

(uphill from the river, Lund’s responsibility)

The frigid waters of the Potomac River flow toward the Chesapeake Bay while, up the hill at Mount Vernon, Lund Washington, George’s cousin, sits at a desk writing an update on the estate and anything affecting the land and agri-business conglomerate owned by George and Martha Washington. Actually, as these things go, it’s not an update but a long letter; actually, as these things go, it’s less of a long letter and more of an exhaustive report on even the slightest detail Lund believes has a bearing on his position as his far-away cousin’s administrator, interim chief executive officer, and overall generational wealth manager. A hot drink, and later a stout drink, help in Lund’s lengthy process of creating the document.

Along with the item-by-item crafting of the letter, Lund inserts his wintry analysis of public affairs in the Potomac River valley. Bad news here: George Mason, the area’s leading representative in the Virginia Convention (the pro-colonial rights legislature operating as Virginia’s government), is sick and absent from governmental meetings in Williamsburg. Mason has a sharp mind and extensive knowledge, and without him, Lund judges, the river region will fare badly in issue debates and policy decisions. To Lund, the fact of representation can be a grand thing but the quality of the representative is the real test. Expect the worst.

Lund provides the worst in reality. He writes George that the people of Alexandria, Virginia, nine miles from Mount Vernon, have essentially surrendered and given up. How does he know that? His answer: they’re simply waiting for British Redcoats to burn the town without doing anything to prevent it. “They put their trust in the Convention, ” states Lund, “and the Convention, I believe, in God.” It’s Lund’s way of saying that they’re doing nothing active, nothing bold, nothing practical to prepare their community’s defenses. That’s how Lund sees it, anyway.

And he also views the recent destruction of Norfolk through steely eyes: “I suppose will make it more difficult to collect the money that is due, for flour sold….”

Scratch, scratch goes the quill pen as Lund Washington adds his signature at the bottom of the page.

Down the hill, turtles float in the icy water of the Potomac River 250 years ago.

* * * * * * *

George Washington is unaware of a major project now underway on his homeland of Mount Vernon. A deep water well, one of the most significant on the estate, is under reconstruction. The bricks that line the interior of the well are being slowly extracted and replaced. Check that: it’s “slowly” like a glacier—the cold mud collapses in on the workers with each brick extracted. Since it’s winter, the workers are in danger of frostbite, suffocation, hypothermia, drowning, and more. No worker, free or enslaved, wants to continue on the project. It’s not worth it and unless some major change occurs, the project may have to be abandoned and the well shut down.

* * * * * * *

George Washington has a sort of well project of his own right now in the Continental Army headquarters at Cambridge, Massachusetts. Over a three-day period, he’s hosting two key meetings. The attendees will be his immediate team of Continental generals along with visiting Continental Congress delegates. They’re hashing out final decisions on vital strategies that could have an enormous impact on the war. Washington will lead the two meetings, each with around ten participants, and he’s got to emerge from them with clear outcomes. He can’t afford to let these well-walls cave in.

* * * * * * *

Gray, grizzled, and completely filling out his officer’s waistcoat, General Israel Putnam from Connecticut is two weeks past his fifty-eighth birthday 250 years ago. He’s one of the attendees in Washington’s pair of councils of war. Putnam finds it difficult to summon up the energy and physical fitness of his younger years when he fought hand-to-hand in irregular warfare during the French and Indian War. He values straight talk, direct statements, and forceful action. Putnam got all of those things in the first council of war where Washington presented Putnam and the group with his clear desire for an attack on British-held Boston by no later than spring. The ten in attendance voted unanimously to endorse the attack and its deadline, along with a willingness to pay for self-armed volunteers who would serve until March 31. Putnam respects and appreciates Washington’s genuine willingness to interact with the group while holding a visible sense of authority.

* * * * * * *

John Adams, a Continental Congress delegate from Massachusetts, sits with Putnam and the rest of the group in the second of Washington’s two councils of war. 41-years old, Adams is a civilian among the soldiers, his other Continental Congress colleague having left camp after the first council of war. In this second meeting, Washington asks the group whether the disastrous Canada expedition should be reinforced from the Continental Army units surrounding Boston. The unanimity of the first meeting disappeared, though a majority of attendees agreed that no further reinforcements should be provided from Cambridge. Unanimity returned when Washington wondered if specific New England governments should send their own volunteers; all hands raised “yes.” Unlike Putnam, Adams has an extensive familiarity with debates, trade-offs, posturing, and haggling. For him, Washington’s pair of meetings have been streamlined, collaborative, and indicative of the Continental Congress-Continental Army relationship that must exist.

* * * * * * *

The second meeting’s unanimity over having New England’s governments (Massachusetts, Connecticut, New Hampshire, and Rhode Island) organize their own volunteers to support the bedraggled Canadian operation may point to a serious trend.

It’s that trend which Samuel Adams, John’s cousin, examines this week in his thoughts and analysis. Like John, Samuel Adams is a Massachusetts delegate at the Continental Congress. Two things strike Cousin Sam, which he’s eager to share with John: one is New Hampshire’s recent public statement that they may adopt a new government only to disband it if “quieter times” return; the other is that the four colonies of New England generally may be more suited to “unite…in confederating” than are the rest of the colonies outside the region.

And 250 years ago, Samuel Adams is completely accepting of that.

* * * * * * *

New Hampshire is certainly going in a distinct direction.

Meshech Weare, chosen as president of the New Hampshire General Court (or legislature), sees that the opinions of the elected legislators is undeniably united—no more men will be sent to the Continental Army in Cambridge, the colony can’t spare them and the British could strike at the local port any day now. On top of that, there are no workmen or materials to manufacture guns in the colony; all weapons must be hoarded by residents for their own use. And no, we won’t call out our militia for temporary duty as it “will create such an uneasiness in their minds that it would hinder their exerting themselves if called upon hereafter.” But don’t fret, General Washington (writes Weare to the Cambridge headquarters), we will send you lots of blankets for these cold winter days and nights.

Your soldiers will need them.

* * * * * * *

(Louis Cook)

250 years ago, born of a black father and an Abenaki Native mother, Louis Cook is one of a dozen Kahnawaka warriors arriving today at Cambridge from just south of Montreal. Cook is fluent in both French and Native languages and he’s at Continental Army headquarters to talk about a deal. Kahnawaka elders like Cook have already agreed to stay neutral in the current clash between the colonies and Britain. But…if the right “incitation”—as the French call it—could be offered, such as an officer’s rank for himself, Cook could persuade the elders to scrap neutrality and join with the rebellious colonists.

Meanwhile, a little over two hundred miles west, in Johnstown, New York, a dozen Mohawk Native warriors and roughly two hundred local British supporters find themselves surrounded. 3000 militia, each man from the vicinity of Albany, New York and a diehard opponent of British rule, are ready to attack the British enclave at Johnstown. The militia are led by Continental General Philip Schuyler, a highly influential wealthy New Yorker but an object of hatred among New Englanders. The large turnout of militia reflect the local reputation of Schuyler and also the belief that Johnstown Loyalist-Native alliance had to be crushed or chaos would ensue. John Johnson, a Loyalist leader, agrees to sign papers attesting to a compelled neutrality.

Ironically, at almost the same time, Thomas Wisdom and thirty-two other supporters of British rule lately imprisoned in Charleston, South Carolina, sign a petition asking for their freedom. Like Louis Cook far away in Cambridge, Massachusetts, they have a deal in mind. They’ll get their freedom in exchange for signing a document promising unity and the preservation of peace in the Carolina backcountry.

The pro-colonial rights supporters who imprisoned them start consideration of their petition.

* * * * * * *

John Holt, printer and publisher of the New York Journal, has heard enough to believe that large numbers of British Redcoats are heading toward New York City, the next Boston. He orders his press workers to assemble the metal letters and begin cranking the wheels—they’re churning out copies of “The Rules and Orders For Regulating The Militia.” New York has to get ready.

250 years ago, the cold of winter always causes the wheels to turn a little slow.

Also

(sweep out the coal and make way for new cargo)

The decision to sail a large contingent of British military forces to New York has hit a snag in England. They’re are enough boats available. King George III has suggested that no idea is too crazy to be considered in expanding naval transport. He, for one, has a thought—perhaps the vessels used to move coal over water, collier boats, could be converted to troop transports.

Get out your broom and scrub brush. There’s black dust and dirt to be removed before the Redcoats come aboard.

* * * * * * *

(making heads turn in London)

In London, 32-year old Thayendanega, a Mohawk Native warrior and leader, is with his ally Guy Johnson from Johnstown, New York. They’ve made the journey from New York City to England in order to find support for Natives who want to fight against the rebellious British colonists in America. Thayendanega and Johnson are working to set up a meeting with George Germain, now in charge of British military operations in the New World.

* * * * * * *

(exquisite craftsmanship)

Just out for purchase 250 years ago in selected London locations is a map depicting in great detail the area of Boston and surrounding lands. It’s the most artistically and appealingly drawn rendering yet of the geography of the town where the imperial-colonial is thought to have started.

* * * * * * *

(a military asset)

In Cadiz, Spain, a 60-year old man can tell when trouble is coming. He’s Pedro de Cervallos, a skilled, experienced, and deeply esteemed commander in the Spanish military of Emperor Charles III. Cervallos understands better than almost anyone else that current tensions over Spanish and Portuguese borders in South America could lead to another war between the two empires. He’s fought on the continent before and he’s prepared to serve his monarch in fighting there again.

For You Now

(better from bad)

I won’t wind back to our stories, though they could surely justify doing so. Notice the two meetings, the personal problems, the various deals. Much about these stories takes you into a wintertime change in ends, means, and the people for both. Enough for now.

Let’s go to the leadership reality. When everything is a hard slog, you come down to two choices. You stop or you keep on. If the latter route, it’s the equivalent of trying to make the better out of the bad.

In doing so, it’s a good idea to ask a couple of questions. They’re not complicated but their answers can be complex. In making the better out of the bad, you ask:

What is it that I’m taking on?

And what is it that I’m giving up?

For the first—are the next coming steps that I’m taking on likely to be easier? Or will they be a continuance of what I’m already experiencing. Will I see something positive soon or should I expect to wait and see?

For the second—in giving up stuff, am I reducing or cutting back my original goal? Or am I buying into a longer timeline than I first expected. Will my followers understand the reduction or am I trading in old problems for new ones?

Remember this, while you’re thinking about trying to get the better from the bad, the River stays flowing. Yes, that rock you just navigated around will stay put. That won’t mean the rocks ahead will now disappear.

Suggestion

Take a moment to consider: as a leader, are you at a place of making the better from the bad?